Fragile
by sara-cupcaked
Summary: A retelling of Living Doll/Dead Doll. Sara has been kidnapped, and Grissom and his team must find her before it's too late. Grissom must also deal with the identity of Sara's kidnapper, someone he thought he could trust. please R&R. GSR!
1. Chapter 1

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My Pilot project, it's a retelling of Living Doll/Dead Doll. Please enjoy and leave reviews. :)  
Thanks to Miss Woozy for being my beta on this one.

I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING :)

* * *

**Chapter One**

"Good job in there guys, I wouldn't have done it differently myself," Grissom said to his team.

"Why weren't you on the stand again Grissom?" Catherine Willows, the blonde, rebellious CSI asked.

He smiled, his blue eyes crinkling. "I had a murder-suicide to attend to, remember?"

"Yeah, thank God court didn't take too long," Nick Stokes stated, glancing at his watch. "Only 6 hours." He laughed, together with Sara Sidle, the tall brunette, Warrick Brown, the tall dark CSI with light green eyes and Greg Sanders, the young ex lab-tech with brown highlighted hair.

"Okay, time to get some rest. I'll let shift end early today because you were all in court. See you back here tomorrow." Grissom looked at Sara, "Sara, can I see you in my office?" He said, before walking towards his office. The others all automatically glanced at Sara to see if she was worried, but she just smiled.

"Catch you guys later." She practically skipped towards the locker room, leaving the four bewildered CSI in her wake.

A whole day, give or take a few hours, with Grissom was exactly what she wanted. It wasn't everyday that she got to spend time with him. 'And I even managed to rattle Catherine, score!' She thought to herself.

When she arrived at her lockers, the metallic smell, not unlike blood, brought her back to her senses. She opened the locker door and took out her slightly heavy kit, draping her jacket over her arm.

Arriving at Grissom's office, the first thing she noticed was the plaque on his desk that read** '_Gil Grissom, Supervisor_'**. She felt a warm feeling in her stomach and a slight light-headedness that always seemed to plague her whenever she remembered he was her boss.

"Sara! What took you so long?" Grissom asked her, smiling. He emerged from a corner holding a thick book.

She smiled back, before adding, "The guys were kinda holding me back, plus I had to get my stuff." She lifted her kit to show him. "Hey, I want to try out that new restaurant down by the Strip, let's go out for dinner," she said, smiling at him.

He took in her sparkling eyes, and sighed. "I'll love to Sara, but this paperwork is killing me."

Her smile quickly disappeared, replaced instead with an unreadable look. "Well, okay then, I guess I'll get takeout then, for us?" She looked at him, daring him to say he was too busy. Grissom smiled, nodding.

"I'll get this done as soon as I can. I'll be back around 10, if that's okay." Sara nodded, giving him a tiny smile.

"Later," she called out, exiting the door.

He watched her fade into the darkness, not knowing it might be the last time he saw her.

* * *

The two boxes in her hand felt different, but in a good way as she spent most of her time with cold bodies. They were both filled: one with fried noodles with mushrooms; the other with rice and sweet and sour pork, from the newest Chinese restaurant on the strip.

Her environmentally friendly Toyota Prius was within her sight, parked in a corner. She pushed the button on her key to open the trunk. Before she could place the steaming containers in the trunk, someone called her name. Turning around, she dropped the containers, instinctively reaching for her gun.

Before she had time to react, she felt herself fall and everything went black.

* * *

An hour after Sara left him; Grissom was feeling tired – and hungry. He looked at his watch – 8pm. He thought about going to the department's cafeteria, but suddenly remembered a special late night meeting that was being held, and bumping into the Sheriff or Ecklie was not something he particularly wanted to do. In the end, he decided to just get a soda.

Getting up, he walked towards the vending machine, which was unfortunately at the other end of the floor to his office, and put in several coins. The can dropped, clinking loudly at the bottom of the machine. He jumped a little; finally noticing how quiet and empty the place was, despite the meeting. Well, if the Sheriff and Ecklie wanted to have a meeting without him, why should he complain?

The coldness of the drink brought him back to his senses, and he got back to his office in half the time it took him to walk there. It was then that he noticed it – the box.

It was sitting on his desk, looking as though it belonged there. He knew it wasn't there when he left his office a few minutes before, so he went closer to study it, inspecting it from all angles, hoping to find a clue as to its sender. 'That's what you get for sending something to an experienced CSI.' He thought to himself. All it read was 'Gil Grissom', with his office address.

As he carefully opened the box with a blade, his eyes grew wide. "This is not happening." He said loudly to himself, his voice echoing around the empty office, hand automatically reaching for his cellphone.


	2. Chapter 2

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Thanks GER for beta-ing for me on this one :) I know Chapter One was pretty slow, this one is definately alot better. Enjoy!

I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING!

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**  
Chapter Two  
**

Five very tense CSIs stood in the layout room, which consisted of a big metal table with the dreaded miniature model on it. CSIs were on every side of it.

"He, or she, has struck again," Greg said, in an almost awed voice, but with anger taking over. Grissom reached over, picking the car up. It was a model of a generic stretch of desert, with a tiny doll underneath a wrecked car, albeit a small car.

The doll had a CSI vest on, and it had shoulder-length brown hair.

"It looks like – " but before Nick could finish his sentence, Jim Brass burst into the room, cellphone in hand.

"Sara's not picking up. I tried her cell and house. Five times _each_."

The room got even more tense and quiet, if that was possible. Grissom felt himself pale. Sara, in the hands of a murderer so calculated, maybe dead, made his vision swirl slightly.

"She went to this new restaurant on the strip, I don't know the name," Grissom said, voice very low. Nobody asked him how or why he knew that, they were too busy thinking.

"Is it in a casino? I know a few new restaurants there…" Catherine tried.

"No. She said it was just a restaurant, not one in a casino. She told me the name of it before, but I was probably too busy to listen carefully…" Grissom trailed off. If Sara were to die because he forgot the name of a restaurant, he wouldn't know how to live with himself.

"The Fortune Cookie!" Greg exclaimed loudly, startling everyone. "It's the newest Chinese it-restaurant. It's on Las Vegas Boulevard. I remember Sara saying she wanted to try their famous mushroom noodles."

Brass clicked his phone open, dialing several numbers. "Catherine, go with Brass. Collect any evidence. We can look at the evidence with fresh eyes once we have new information." Grissom instructed.

"Got it," Catherine nodded, and followed Brass who had just finished the call out the door.

"What do we do, Griss?" Warrick spoke up.

"You guys analyse the miniature, print it and everything. I'm going to find out how it got on my table." Grissom said calmly, leaving the brightly lit room and into the eye of the storm.

* * *

Catherine stood there, surveying the scene. Sara's silver Toyota Prius was in the corner, in a presently deserted parking lot, save for a dozen or so uniforms. The food, spilt from the containers, was strewn around the rear of the car.

"Mushroom noodles and chicken maybe?" Brass observed.

"Strange, Sara's vegetarian. Why would she be buying meat?" Catherine wondered out loud.

"A date maybe?" Brass said, and smiled.

Catherine chuckled. She knew by Sara's behavior that she was going out with someone, just whom that person was; she had not the slightest inkling.

Catherine knelt down and examined the noodles. "Cold," she said to no one in particular. "Cold and slimy," She suddenly had an idea, and turned to Brass. "I'm going to get some takeout. Call Greg to cover for me, and get the tapes." She stood up.

"Was it something I said?" Brass called out to her retreating back, but brought out his cell anyway.

* * *

Greg, Warrick and Nick were analysing the miniature. "Hey, did you just move the table?" Nick asked Warrick.

"Nope, I'm looking at the car. Greg, I got a VIN number. Run it – Charlie Tango 132…"

Nick tuned out as he focused on the doll's hand. It was moving, very subtly, but it was moving.

"Sara's stuck under the car, but she's still alive," Nick said, and Warrick bent down to take a look.

"You're right, it's probably powered by an internal motor," Warrick noted.

"None of the other miniatures were moving… God, this is sick," Nick said under his breath. "Hold on, Sara, just hold on…"

"I got a hit. Car was a Nissan, wrecked in an accident three weeks ago. Driver killed, lead CSI: Sara Sidle." Greg read off the computer screen, eyes growing wide.

The room grew silent again, and the harsh ringtone startled everyone. "It's mine, sorry," Greg said, picking up. "I'll be right there," he said, and clicked it off. "Brass wants me at the restaurant car park, they found Sara's car." Nick and Warrick nodded.

"Good luck," Warrick called out to Greg. He turned back around to Nick who was bent over the miniature. "Got anything?"

Nick turned and faced Warrick, grinning. "I got a print."

* * *

"Judy, did anyone enter my office?" Grissom asked the department's receptionist. She had a puzzled look on her face, but that soon changed into a small smile, having recalled the meeting that was held earlier.

"Several officials were having a meeting, you know that, right?"

Grissom nodded.

"Only one person inquired about your office – Judge Kheimer. I saw him holding a box, coming to think of it…"

Judge Kheimer, that name rang a bell. "Why would a judge want to know where my office is..." Grissom mused.

"That's your job, Mr. Grissom," Judy answered, with a smile. Her smile soon disappeared. "Oh no, he should be leaving for New York right now, that's why the department held such a late meeting."

He didn't answer her, and his phone rang suddenly. "Grissom," he answered. He paused for a while, smiling. "Thanks, Nick, I'll get everyone." He ended the call. "Thanks, Judy. You've been a great help," he called out, disappearing into the inner belly of the lab, leaving Judy a tad left out.


	3. Chapter 3

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I'm sorry, but after this chapter, it'll be some time till I post the next, as I'm having my exams right now. My beta too is busy, haha :) but if you leave a review, I'll IM a little part of the next chapter to you.

please R&R :)

I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!

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**Chapter Three  
**

Three hours after first discovering the miniature, they were back in the layout room. "What did you find, Nick?" Grissom asked, who nodded towards the doll.

"If you look closely, you can see the doll's hand moving. This means Sara's probably still alive," he concluded as Catherine and Grissom leaned in to take a look.

"I heard you bought Chinese food?" Grissom turned towards Catherine, with a slightly confused look. She smiled, " I found food strewn around the car. She bought food before she was attacked; her credit card statement confirmed that –"

Grissom's mind again wandered. Sara… The dinner they were supposed to enjoy together... Finding her… Finding her _alive_.

He focused back on Catherine's voice.

"–bought exactly the same thing so I could measure the heat of the food to get a timeline. The food was cooked around the time she dropped it – so that's approximately four hours ago." Catherine concluded and looked at her watch. "It's 11pm now, so Sara was taken at around 7pm."

Grissom sighed. "This gives the Miniature Murderer a four hour head start."

"We'll find her Grissom, I know that." Nick reassured him. Greg bounced in the room.

"I have something. Care to fill me in first?"

Nick filled him in record time, and Greg smiled.

"You found out the '_when_', I got the '_how_'. I found a taser barb by the car tire, and this would explain how no one heard her scream. She went out like a light." Greg concluded. 'It was unlikely she would have screamed anyway, she's always so tough', he thought.

Suddenly, Warrick came in. He looked at Grissom before starting. "I ran the print Nick found on the underside of the miniature car, and it came out –"

"_Lady Heather_." Grissom said, cutting him off.

The whole room went deathly quiet again. Catherine was the first to break the silence.

"The same Lady Heather as in the dominatrix AND the one you're friends with?" she asked disbelievingly.

"The one and only," Grissom said grimly.

"We got the '_how_' and the '_when_', and maybe the '_who_', but why?" Greg asked.

As if on cue, Brass stepped in. "We got her. Found her in her 'dominion'. She's in the interrogation room. I'm ready when you are."

Grissom nodded and started, "I guess I'm going to find out, Greg." Brass left the room, leaving them to absorb the news.

"Greg, the tapes at the parking lot?" Grissom asked.

"I'm on it," Greg said, and Catherine added, "I'm going with him." They both left the room.

"You guys search Lady Heather's house. Brass got an attorney general's warrant." Grissom directed Nick and Warrick. "On it," Nick said and walked out, while Warrick nodded.

Warrick paused by the doorway. "You okay, Grissom?"

Grissom closed his weary eyes. "I'm fine, just tired."

"Okay." Warrick said and left, leaving Grissom in the room alone.

Tired was an understatement; he felt as though he had a filter in his eyes, everything was washed in grey. The nauseous feeling whenever he thought about Sara under a car didn't help either. He sighed and got up. At least they were getting somewhere.

* * *

Sara felt drunk, a familiar feeling she hadn't had since ages ago. She had a bad headache, and her vision was blurred. She shut her eyes, steadying herself, and then opening them seconds later. Much better, she thought.

She was sitting up, arms bound behind her. She looked around; she was in a car, in the backseat. She could make out the woman driving. Lady Heather.

She was feeling many different emotions right now, but fear wasn't one of them. She hardly ever felt afraid, not even when she had a sharp shard held at her neck in a mental hospital some time ago.

"Heather." She said, loud and clear. Her voice echoed around the car, unnaturally loud. Lady Heather glanced at her in the rearview mirror, but continued driving.

"Hey, thanks for not putting me in the boot. I usually find only one thing back there," Sara said, trying to distract Lady Heather.

"You'd wish you were back there, dead, once you know what you'll be going through after this, Sara." Lady Heather spoke. Her voice soft and gentle but somehow still laced with hate.

Sara's mind started to race, wondering what Lady Heather had planned for her. "Grissom and the team are going to find me," Sara stated calmly, looking out the window. It was dark. They seemed to be far from the city, as Vegas was never dark.

"When did you and Grissom meet?" Lady Heather asked, in a voice that was filled with emotion. Sara frowned.

"What does that have to do with – " and stopped. She understood where Lady Heather was going with this.

"Heather, I would have never known!" Sara said, smirking slightly. Lady Heather turned around, facing Sara.

"Shut up. Just shut up!" Lady Heather said, voice growing harder and sharper with every syllable. The car suddenly hit something, flew up and landed on the ground hard.

Sara was thrown off the seats, her head hitting the ceiling with a thud. She slid down onto the floor, not moving. Lady Heather, breathing hard, checked on Sara before continuing as though nothing had happened.

* * *

Sara opened her eyes, dazed. She was on dirt, stomach down, looking at Lady Heather's feet. Her hands were now free, and she started crawling forward, but then heard the hydraulics. She looked up, and saw a wrecked car coming down on her. Fast.

She tried pulling herself back in, but her left arm was too slow. The car came down slowly on her arm, and soon it was pinned under the car door. She heard a crack, and screamed in pain.

"Heather, what are you doing? Heather! _Heather_!!" she cried out into the darkness as she heard a car speeding away.


	4. Chapter 4

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I thought I'd be busy today, I guess not. :) here's Chapter Four, only three more chapters to go :(

please R&R, thanks for all the comments. thanks GER for proof-reading it.

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**Chapter Four  
**

Greg loaded the tapes into the player. It always took so long to load, so he glanced around the room, before asking, "Hey, I heard rumours about Grissom spending a night at Lady Heather's. Are they true?"

Catherine granted him a small smile. "Grissom did spend a night there, maybe even a few, no doubt about that. But he said nothing went on, and I believe him. Besides, Grissom's personal life is his, and we have no right to question him."

Greg looked sheepish. "Right."

Catherine pointed to the computer screen. "Okay… Fast forward to 7pm, will you?" He clicked on several keys, and Sara's car appeared on the screen.

"Thank god we have a good view," Greg said under his breath, watching. A few seconds later, they saw Sara walk up to her car, drop the food, then reach for something before dropping onto the ground. Someone emerged from the shadows holding a taser gun. Lady Heather. They saw her drag Sara into the rear seat of the car before speeding off.

"Zoom in on the plates, I want to get her car," Catherine instructed, her voice hard. He paused the frame and enlarged it.

"Delta Tango Echo 1933." Greg read out.

"I'm getting Brass to look for the car," Catherine said before dialing her cell.

Greg watched the same frames again, and caught something. "Cath, tell Brass the car turned East on Las Vegas Boulevard, it might help."

Catherine nodded, and walked to the other side of the room to talk. Greg sighed. It was hell when Nick was taken back then, and it was happening all over again. He hoped the outcome would end up the same...

* * *

Warrick and Nick arrived at a good neighborhood and stopped by a seemingly modest house. This modest-looking house was Lady Heather's real 'dominion'. The place was swarming with uniforms. They flashed their IDs and went inside.

"What do you think of this… Lady Heather?" Warrick asked, switching on his flashlight.

He shrugged, before saying, "All I know is that a person whose job is to be the 'submissive' is surely messed up."

Warrick chuckled. "It's the 21st century, Nick. People are allowed to have unusual jobs, you know?"

"Yeah, but what ever happened to normal 9 to 5 jobs?"

But before Warrick could answer, they were both stunned into silence.

"Whoa," was all Nick could muster, but it was a clear understatement. Lady Heather's living room had been converted into a workstation, but it wasn't just any normal workstation; there were moulding tools placed on every available surface. Tables held half-completed miniatures, and sketches of Sara were scattered randomly in the area.

Warrick ripped a sketch of Sara from a wall. "Research, maybe?"

Nick gave him a look. "You think?"

They both got to work, sifting through the never-ending pile of papers, sketches and tools. Minutes passed, then hours.

Warrick's phone suddenly went off, startling both of them. He ended the call with an "Okay, I'll see you there." He then turned towards Nick. "Brass found Lady Heather's car, it's in the station."

"Okay, you go. I'm not leaving till I find something." Nick replied, not looking up, continuing to sift through papers.

"Good luck," Warrick muttered quietly, giving Nick a small slap of encouragement on his back before leaving.

"I don't need it, Sara does," he replied to the empty room.

Hours later, Nick still hadn't found anything of use, and he was getting frustrated. He found yet another sketch of Sara, and soon felt himself overcome with a spectrum of emotions. He sighed, and glanced out the window. He looked back at the sketch, and saw it in a small, almost-obscure handwritten heading.

"Great Canyon Auto Yard."

His heart started pumping faster and faster. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. He grabbed the case file from his kit and flipped to Sara's wrecked Nissan case. "Autoyard: _Great Canyon Auto Yard_," he read out loud. He gave himself a small smile in spite of everything, and started dialing.

* * *

Grissom really didn't want to deal with Lady Heather right now. Visions of Sara, under a car, in the desert. _Fighting for her life._ They all raced through his mind as he thought about Lady Heather. He never in his life thought it would all culminate to this. It just didn't occur to him that it ever could.

He left the initial questioning to Brass, while he did what he knew best: interpreting the evidence. One of his favourite quotes was 'People lie, the evidence doesn't', and he was about to put that into use.

Standing by the table in the brightly-lit layout room, Grissom examined the miniature with a magnifying glass. The doll's hand was still clutching the sand, and Grissom wished he could find the 'off' button. He didn't need to be reminded _constantly_ that Sara was suffering.

He searched the sides for a switch, for anything. He frowned, spotting a tiny pinprick on the side. He fished a pin out from the many drawers around the table, and pressed it in. Suddenly, a song started playing.

_If blood will flow, when flesh and steel are one,  
drying in the colour of the evening sun._

_Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away,  
but something in our minds will always stay._

_Perhaps his final act was meant,_

_To clench a lifetime's argument,  
nothing comes from violence, and nothing ever could.  
For all those born beneath the angry star,  
lest we forget how fragile we are._

_On and on, the rain will fall,  
like tears from the stars, like tears from the stars,  
and on and on, the rain will sing,  
how fragile we are, how fragile we are._

The haunting tune mesmerized him; it was coming from the miniature itself. It stopped, and played again, and again and again. The excitement that had initially coursed through him when he first found the pinhole subsided as he listened to the lyrics, turning into horror.

He grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper, and listened. The minutes rolled by. Grissom soon lost track of time as he lost himself in the song. Finally, when he was on the last line, Greg popped his head in.

"Grissom, he-" and stopped, listening to the song. Grissom looked up.

"Hey, I know this song. It's by Sting, and this guy from American Idol covered it recently. This is the American Idol version," Greg added helpfully.

"Do you happen to know the title of the song, Greg?"

"Yeah, _Fragile_."

Grissom felt a wave of terror rush through him. He shook his head, hoping to clear his mind. "You, urm, have a message for me?"

"Oh, right. Brass wants to see you. Lady Heather's not talking, so he thinks you might be able to get through to her." Greg answered tensely.

Grissom pressed the button, silencing the miniature. "She might not be talking, but the miniature is."

* * *

CUE CSI THEME SONG :D

The lyrics are from Sting's Fragile, and Jason Castro covered it several weeks ago. I do not own anything!

BTW, for best results, listen to the song while reading this chapter. This song inspired me to write this entire story, it's so haunting and fitting! :) I also used the title of the song for my story title, I thought it was pretty apt.


	5. Chapter 5

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Thanks GER for proof-reading this. many of the unanswered questions will be answered in this chapter, I hope you guys enjoy it.  
Please R&R!

:D

* * *

**Chapter Five  
**

Grissom walked towards the interrogation room, getting more and more restless. It has been hours since Sara disappeared and who knew how she was holding up. Besides that, the last stanza of the song just didn't seem to fit. He couldn't decode its dual meaning, unlike with the other two stanzas.

He passed the break room. The static was blaring, cutting the silence jarringly. It was the weather report. "-heavy rainfall tonight, the Las Vegas Weather Department has issued flood warnings-" In his head, he could hear the song playing. '_On and on, the rain will fall, like tears from the stars, like tears from the stars._'

It crashed down on his so hard he felt faint. The last stanza didn't have a dual meaning; it meant **exactly** what it was! He grabbed a cup from the room, filling it with water before doubling back out into the layout room.

He slowly poured the water onto the miniature, watching with curiosity and disbelief as the water puddled around the doll. It's arm moved slower and slower, till it stopped moving altogether.

"_On and on, the rain will say, how fragile we are, how fragile we are._" He whispered to himself in horror.

* * *

Sara Sidle was pissed. Freedom was only a breath away, yet her arm had to be caught just under the door. She tried moving it, but all she achieved was to just further aggravate her sore arm, especially since there were those loose stones around. It hurt to move it. She looked up and around the car and found a rearview mirror. 'Yes,' she whispered to herself as she broke it off.

One arm pinned under, the other holding a rearview mirror, Sara was about to put her plan into motion when she heard it. The deep rumble of thunder and soon after, the pattering of the first drops of rain.

A feeling rushed through Sara as she started getting soaked, and it was a strong one. _Hopelessness_. This was the second time in her life she had felt it, the first when she watched her mother stab her father. Stabbing till he stopped moving, till her mother stopped crying.

The cold brought her back to her senses; the water was rising quickly inside the car. She swore under her breath. Heather didn't just want her to die; she wanted her to suffer before she died a watery death.

"Grissom…" She sighed, tearing up briefly before getting back into action.

Biting on the rearview mirror, Sara used her only free hand to look for something suitable that could aid her. She felt something large, and lifted it up. It was a fairly large rock, and she knew what she could do with it. But in order to do all that, she would have to move her arm to the right, something that would most likely cause it to break again.

She took a deep breath, and moved it to the right, fast. She heard an alarming crack and screamed, eyes brimming with tears of pain. She had done it; she had managed to jam the rock into place. Her arm was free!

The water was already up to her neck. Breathing heavily, she gave the window a hard kick. Again. Again. Finally, it gave way and broke, water gushing out. She stumbled forward, and she made it out. Beaming in spite of everything, she got up and started walking away from the wreck, away from everything.

* * *

"It was an ingenious plan, Heather, I have to give you that. Even I couldn't have done what you did," Grissom said to the silent Lady Heather. He took out the sheet of paper, and read out the lyrics.

"You don't have to talk, the miniature did the talking for you." Grissom said quietly.

"You found the switch, didn't you? I knew you would. So… did you like it?" she asked in a subdued but deliberately taunting tone, not looking up once.

"Tell me where Sara is," Grissom said, firmly but softly.

Lady Heather shook her head, and Grissom sighed. He decided that trying another tactic might gain him some results.

"Why the other people?"

Lady Heather's eyes locked onto Grissom's. Hers had an unfathomable glint in it. "When I had my daughter's body prepared for burial -" her voice broke, eyes suddenly tearing up. "-I had managed to suppress my emotions. I was volatile, but I was numb. But when they opened her up, the mortician's assistant spilt _bleach_ all over the place. The smell, it was so overpowering. I felt everything again, _everything_. After that incident, whenever I saw or smelled bleach…"

Grissom held her gaze, hardly blinking. "The other victims, what did they have in common?" he whispered.

"They were clients."

Grissom breathed out. 'Of course they were,' he thought to himself.

"Why miniatures?" he asked, looking into her eyes again.

Lady Heather gave him a small genuine smile, a sad one. "Zoë loved them, she had the tools and everything. I guess after she was gone, I felt like that was all I would have to remember her by…"

Grissom brought out another piece of paper. " '_If blood will flow, when flesh and steel are one, drying in the colour of the evening sun'_, by that you mean the time you were 'punishing' Jacob Wolfowitz for what he had done. The whip you used on him, it had a metal tip. And when you were 'punishing' him, the sun was setting."

" '_Tomorrow's rain'll wash the_ _stains away, but something in our minds will always stay' _and with that you mean that his wounds will heal one day, but the memory of your daughter's death will haunt you forever."

A solitaire tear leaked down Lady Heather's cheek.

" '_Perhaps his final act was meant, to clench a lifetime's argument, that nothing ever comes from violence, and nothing ever could,' _This was going to be your final miniature, you never expected yourself to get away with this one, and with the completion of this one, you end a lifetime's argument. What argument did you have with Sara?"

Lady Heather looked up, her eyes dark.

"Sara didn't do anything, Grissom. It's what you didn't do."

'She's getting delusional,' Grissom thought to himself while looked at her, shaking his head slightly.

"With the second part of the verse, you believe you could have killed Sara using a more 'violent' method, say by stabbing her, but instead you trapped her under a car, using the elements to your advantage."

Lady Heather looked him in the eyes, this time with a slight smile on her lips.

" '_For all those born beneath the angry star, lest we forget how fragile we are,'_ You consider your nature as something you were born with, something you cannot change. However, you also consider yourself fragile."

Grissom was about to start on the last stanza when Lady Heather started singing.

"_On and on, the rain will fall, like tears from the stars, like tears from the stars, and on and on, the rain will sing, how fragile we are, how fragile we are."_

Grissom felt his heart jump a couple of beats, like it was constricted. He almost gasped for air.

Lady Heather looked at him, as if seeing him in new light. "You really don't know why I took Sara?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Grissom answered, trying to quell his fear.

"I've known you for so long, Gil, and you could never be hurt as you stifled your emotions as well. But when you started seeing Sara, things changed. It's as though she's a vessel, carrying your emotions inside her. I realised I could hurt you most by hurting her."

Grissom finally saw it, it was staring at him right in front of his face. All those trips to Lady Heather's house, she'd mistaken it for interest.

She continued, as if reading Grissom's mind. "For a man so observant, you certainly are short-sighted."

She looked as though she had more to say, but then Brass barged in.

"We know where she is."


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

here's Chapter Six, thanks GER for proof-reading it :) Please R&R!  
Keep an eye out for the final chapter.

:D

* * *

**Chapter Six**

"Just one more step. One more. Last one. Just… one more," Sara was murmuring to herself. She was in the middle of nowhere, and she was tired, hungry and in pain. She had been walking since the sky was dark, and right now, the sun was casting its first glorious rays of light into the horizon.

Sara stopped for a moment, taking in the beauty. She continued walking, mind wandering onto her team. Suddenly-

_Grissom._  
That thought alone was enough to make her smile, her first in a several hours_. The first time they had met, the first time she was captivated. His beautiful blue eyes. Their first case together, it involved a guy who died after winning the jackpot._ She felt her knees buckle; she pushed against the pain and continued walking. _The first time he had admitted he was attracted to her, the first time he shot her down. The first time he looked into her eyes and asked her if she was okay. Their first kiss._ She felt her knees buckle once again, but this time she didn't have the strength to get up, to keep fighting. She fell onto the harsh desert floor, vision dissolving into darkness.  
_Grissom._

* * *

He felt a knot of dread in his stomach. He wanted to find Sara so badly he was almost shaking. The sun was just about to rise; it was so long since she disappeared. Warrick was driving, and Catherine, Nick and Greg were sitting at the back.

He could hear the sirens of the 10 or more police cars trailing behind them. The car was silent; everyone was bracing themselves for the potential pain if Sara were to be found dead.

Catherine was the first one to speak, the first one to break the almost tangible tension. "Why Sara?"

Such a simple question, but such complicated answers came with it. He closed his eyes briefly, composing himself. "Lady Heather had developed feelings for me, feelings I didn't return. She knew she could hurt me more by hurting the only person I have ever loved."

The car fell back into its silent state, as if someone had pressed the mute button. Catherine turned to look at Nick with a look of complete surprise. Nick returned the look, and Greg's eyes were the size of dinner plates. Warrick was trying his hardest not too look behind, when he suddenly slammed the breaks.

They had arrived, at the scene of the crime.

Grissom was out of his seat even before the rest had their seatbelts off, and he was dashing across the desert. Looming from the sand, twisted pieces of red metal rose up from the earth like an artwork. He got to his knees, and starting digging. Soon, Nick had joined him, and then the rest.

She wasn't there.

Grissom felt a surge of relief and heartache. Relief because she might still be alive, heartache that her ordeal wasn't over yet.

"Catherine, you and Warrick go that way," he instructed, pointing to the west.

"Got it," Warrick called out as they jogged away.

"Greg, stay here and dig through everything. Be thorough. You might find something else…"

Greg nodded, and unbuckled his kit to get his gloves.

"We go east," he said to Nick, who ran ahead.

Nick stopped by the horizon to watch the rays of light penetrate the dark, and felt his heartstrings tighten. He lifted his binoculars to his eyes, sweeping the area. Nothing. He tried again. Bush, rock, bush, rock, rock – wait. There was a glint amongst the bush. He broke into a run, shoes kicking up dust storms, and he heard Grissom right behind him.

She was just lying there, her pale skin even paler, contrasting greatly with her dark, dark hair. She looked so beautiful, yet broken. A word flashed through Grissom's mind –

_Fragile_.

His heartbeat quickened as he watched Nick bend down to feel for a pulse. He crouched down at her side, reaching down for her hand to make sure she wasn't going to disappear again.

Nick's face contorted as he stood up quickly, grabbing his walkie-talkie. "No pulse," he said to Grissom before turning away to call for medical attention. His eyes were starting to twitch, as if trying to fight back a torrent of tears.

Grissom shook his head disbelievingly, and he reached out to take her wrist. Nothing.

His vision started to swim. 'This isn't happening,' he thought to himself. He could hear the sound of the helicopter propellers in the background, faintly, as if they were still miles away. He glanced at Sara's face, her blue-tinged lips highlighted by the sun.

_This isn't happening._


	7. Chapter 7

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This chapter is better than the last, I promise :) I'm sorry if it's a little short, but I didn't want to make it too long and complicated. thanks again GER for proof-reading it. please R&R!

I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING.

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**Chapter Seven**

He could see the medical technician pushing a needle into her arm. He could see two others lift her onto a transporter, not very gently, save for her left arm. He saw Nick talking to them, their voices low, too low. He caught words like '_dehydrated_' and '_a slight chance_'.

Why was his vision so distorted, as though he was seeing everything underwater?

He followed numbly behind the transporter, watching them load her onto the helicopter. He was stifling his emotions again, as Lady Heather had pointed out_._

"Where are you taking her?" Nick asked loudly over the hum of the helicopter, voice breaking slightly.

"Desert Palm Hospital," the blonde med tech replied just as loudly.

"I'm going with her," Grissom finally spoke out. The blonde tech nodded.

"Tell Brass to meet me there along with everyone else," he instructed a tearful Nick, who nodded and stepped back.

He climbed into the cramped quarters of the helicopter, sitting a few centimeters away from Sara. The medical personnel slammed the doors, before the loud hum of the propellers started.

Two med techs leaned over Sara, gently placing her arm into a temporary cast. "How is she doing?" Grissom asked, his voice giving away his emotions.

"She's breathing, but she's not responding. If she's still unresponsive by the time we arrive at the hospital, she's in a coma." The blonde replied softly, grabbing onto a bag of fluids to pass to the other guy.

Grissom reached down to take her hand, gently running his thumb over her cold hand. He never felt so numb in his life; it was as though his emotions were in a comatose state, just like Sara.

Suddenly, Sara's eyes fluttered, like an injured butterfly. Grissom held his breath, not daring to hope. Her toffee coloured eyes opened, and the first thing she caught sight of was his nametag that read '_Grissom_', and gave him a tiny smile.

She felt so relieved; she couldn't even speak. All she could do was stare right into his blue eyes, hoping he would understand.

Grissom felt a wave of emotions, so strong he wanted to break down and embrace Sara. Instead, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and felt her return it.

"_Sara, I_ –" but stopped, because the way she was looking at him, that look in her eyes, was saying what he couldn't find the words for.


End file.
